


Dreams in Dissonance

by Aural_Contraception



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Aftermath of Violence, Angst, Comfort/Angst, Destroy Ending, F/M, Gen, Psychological Trauma, Quite a bit swearing actually., Swearing, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-10
Updated: 2016-03-30
Packaged: 2018-04-14 21:45:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 7,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4581249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aural_Contraception/pseuds/Aural_Contraception
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I'm losing my mind, and I'm OK with that. One day I won't dream anymore, or remember.</p>
<p>In a post-Crucible galaxy, Garrus drifts through life. Until he meets someone who may or may not be who they seem. </p>
<p>A story of destruction, and ... rebirth.</p>
<p>[Adding in 'interstitial' chapters. And another O/C. 3/28/16]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Fire Bird

**Author's Note:**

> Hopefully I've put the words in the right places and they're worth reading.
> 
> **A/N:** The timeline of this story is based on the Wikipedia ME Universe Timeline.  
> According to the timeline, the events of ME take place from **2183-2186**. That implies the events of ME1, ME2,and ME3 only took six months to complete. Shepard was dead for two years, and incarcerated for six months. The timeline also states that Shepard was 33 years old at the completion of ME3.  
>   
>  However, according to Casey Hudson, Drew Karpashyn, and Preston Watamiuk[sp?], the three main creators of the ME universe, as they see it, the Saren mission took from six to eleven months to complete. The Collector mission can be anywhere from five to eight months, and the war lasted seven months. Technically, that means the war actually started in 2187 at the earliest.
> 
> Except for flashback chapters/scenes, all events take place in 2187.
> 
> Thank you.  
>   
>   
> 
> 
> * * *

  
  
  
  
_I came to cut you up_

_I came to knock you down_

_I came to tear your little world apart_

_I came to tear you down_

_I came to drag you down_

_I came to tear your world apart_

  
  
  
  
  


_And break your soul apart_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Vow.  
> Garbage  
> 1995


	2. See ... all better.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Music:** _Wake Up (aka The Construct/Catalyst)._ Sam Hulick, ME3 OST

Great. 

The sun was peeking through the clouds. 

I hate the sun. 

I prefer the gray. Easier on the eyes. Easier on the …

Well, … I prefer the gray.

Matches my mood.

I hate the sun.

Then again, I hate a lot of things. Mostly ...

Platitudes.

“It'll get better.”

“Things always work out.”

“You can't see it now. But, there's a reason it turned out this way.”

“Maybe it's for the best, this way.”

“You need to move forward.”

Fuck you.

I almost smile at that. 

Fuck you.

Humanity's second greatest contribution to the universe. The word fuck.

Maybe the third greatest. I guess the Crucible is, was a great thing. Not to me, but the rest of the galaxy liked it.

I hate it. I fucking hate it. 

That makes it a bit better. Just add fuck, and things are better.

If you have to ask me why I hate the Crucible, then you're an idiot. No, ... lets make that ... you're a fucking idiot.

I smile as I kick a rock into a pile of rubble, see, that made it all better. 

Just add fuck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for your time. Please R&R, or let me know of any errors. (Other than the story itself.)


	3. Shepard blew up the Citadel, and all I got was a t-shirt

.

.

.

-

-

-

.

.

.

The Crucible killed the best thing the humans ever had to offer, and I'm left with the word fuck.

.

.

.

-

-

-

.

.

.


	4. Everything crumbles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Music:** _Wake Up (aka The Construct/Catalyst)._ Sam Hulick, ME3 OST

I walk past the same pile of rubble everyday. I wouldn't be surprised if I kicked the same rock into the rubble everyday also. Same fucking rock.

I chuckle at that. Spirits, I'm losing my mind. Slowly, but surely, I am losing my mind. I'm OK with it though. 

Become a drone that doesn't think. Dream. Remember.

That would be good. 

Like clockwork I stop at the same field of rubble I stop at everyday. Even the days I'm not working, I stop by. 

I lean against the fence that surrounds this block of rubble. Well, at least the plants growing in the rubble like the sun. Then again, they're plants, what do they know? 

The plants are the reason there's a fence around this block. That, and I asked them not to raze this block. I just wanted to see what the plants could do against the rubble. 

Slowly, but inexorably, they're pushing through the rubble, adding more green to this district everyday. I suppose there's a metaphor or allegory in there somewhere, but, I don't really care.

I was intrigued by the whole thing, so I asked the project manager if they could raze this block last or not at all. It turns out, I have more clout than I thought.

Comes with being one of the heroes of the galaxy. 

I don't feel like a hero. I … don't feel anything, really.

Except for these weeds. These stupid fucking weeds.

Then one day, on the way to work, I happened across the project foreman, and asked if this block could be razed last. He just looked at me as if I were daft, which might be true. 

“Why?” He'd asked.

“I'm not sure, just, … if you could. I would appreciate it.”

“And you are?”

“Garrus Vakarian.”

“Uh-huh. Right. Sure, Mr Vakarian.” He shook his head, and walked off. 

Then about a week later, he comes running up to me.

“Ser Vakarian.” Ser? Now I'm Ser?

“Per your request, this block ...” He waved his arms across the debris. “It's been given park status.” 

Per my request. I don't recall that.

I took his name, and thanked him. 

Later that night, in a fit of logic only a large quantity of alcohol can induce, I threw the plaque with Shepard's name on it, into the 'park'. I thought she should see it. 

And, I want as few reminders of her as possible. I have enough in my head, I don't need anymore.

A few days later, someone had affixed it to the fence. Then, in true Turian fashion, it had been proposed, codified, and labeled accordingly.

Now it's an official park. Beautiful fence, professional sign-age, even a car park. 

I just wanted to see what the plants could do with the detritus of war, and fifteen-thousand years of civilization. 

I prefer this to all the statues. It just seems, … more like her. 

A statue is a representation of her, or what she represents to someone, or what they want her to represent. It's based on someones interpretation of her. 

No, I prefer the constant struggle of the plants versus the rubble. There's your allegory. Metaphor. Whatever.

What-fucking-ever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading. Please R&R. Thanks again.


	5. A spark ...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You can never go home ...

I saw him in the distance, laying in the gutter.

Another one.

As I came up beside him, I just shook my head.

He lay there, twitching, blank eyes, saliva puddling below his head. The stiletto still protruding above his right eye.

A kid. 

Rumor had it that if you jammed a pick or knife above your eye and rooted around, you could carve out the area that held memories.

I wanted to ask him if it really works, but I doubt he could hear me.

If you're charitable, you put a bullet in them right then and there. I just called it in, and moved on. I didn't want to deal with the paperwork.

The vast majority of those found had served on Earth. And we'd sent millions.

Unfortunately, that idea wasn't the only one they'd come home with.

And the old guard didn't like what they had to say.


	6. Where everyone knows your name ...

The owner shows me to my seat. It's the same seat every night. A quiet booth a way from anyone. And everyone.

I eat here every night. It's comfortable. Quiet. And the food is very good.

And on nights when life, … memories get to be too much, I always wake up at home. 

The owner, Drusnus Galmius, is a retired C-Sec detective. Which explains both knowing where I live, and how to get in.

As I savor my first cocktail I see Drusnus hovering near the entrance, directing employees. I can somewhat hear shouting outside, but I go back to the menu.

I decide to order something different when the server arrives.

“The usual, sir?”

“Sure.” So much for that idea.

“Very good. Another cocktail?”

“Sure. Uh, … what's going on?” I point in the general vicinity of the entrance.

“Nothing to trouble you sir. It's that human again. Very annoying.” He closes his OT with the usual servers flourish, then. “Anything else, sir?”

“Human? Seems odd ...” I trailed off. Why would a human cause trouble at a small restaurant in Cipritine?

“I couldn't really answer that, sir.” Are servers specifically bred for their officious tone? Or is it a learned thing?

“Certainly. But, if you get a chance, ...” He pauses in his return to … well wherever servers go when they're not … serving. “Could you ask Mr Galmius to stop by?”

Even more pause from the server. “Is everything OK, sir?” 

I was watching the commotion at the entrance, not entirely worried about his tone or being in server pause-mode. “Um, yes. Just if you could, I would appreciate it. Thank you.”

Server nod, and he was off to … somewhere. Hopefully drinks and food.

I open my OT, try and peruse the news. Nothing of interest. At least to me.

I settle on an article recapping the efforts on the reopening of the relays. The author surmises that the Quarians took the lead on the repair efforts mostly to further geth research. There's also a sidebar by that sociopath Admiral Xen castigating Shepard for 'killing' the geth. 

I write a quick response, stating that Xen's only mad because Shepard cheated her out of that act, and Xen can pick the wings off nanocopters instead.

My drink arrives, I order another. I don't feel like dreaming tonight.

Drusnus arrives halfway through my meal. 

I ask him about the disturbance earlier. Like the server, he apologizes, and states it's nothing to worry about. 

“I have to admit I'm curious why a human would bother a small restaurant in Cipritine. No offense intended.”

“None taken.” With a shrug. “Who knows why. Maybe we're one of several.” He said looking past me towards … ?

Interesting. He was lying.

I was debating whether to call him on his lie, when he spoke. 

Pointing at my drink. “Will you require a ride home, later?”

I shook my head. “No, thank you. It's a short walk.”

In a moment of good timing, the server arrives with another drink. I nod my thanks.

As I finish my drink and reach for the fresh one, Drusnus sighs.

“It may not be my place, but I don't really think that's the answer.”

I answer around the crunching of ice. “Depends on the question then doesn't it.”

He took a deep breath. “Well … true. But, I do know one thing.” I arch a brow in response. “It will end up killing you.” 

Looking at him through the bottom of the glass. “When?”


	7. Seed of Destruction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Genesis of a downfall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Music:** _Grief_. Sam Hulick, ME3 OST

  
  
[London 12/2186]  
  
_“Kirrahe?”_

_Extending a hand. “Ah, Garrus Vakarian. Good to see you again.”_

_Shaking his hand. “You as well. So ...” Waving my hand in the direction of the beam. “Seems the end is in sight.”_

_He stared at me for a moment as if making a decision, then shook his head. “No.” Pointing up. “The end is up there.”_

_Nodding. “Yeah, that's the consensus. But ...” Pointing at the beam in the distance. “They say that's the only way in.”_

_Frowning. “Their plan is to rush thousands, maybe tens of thousands, and hope someone gets through? That's not a plan, that's hope.”_

_I started to reply when he continued._

_“And hope is a very poor plan.”_

_“You have a better one?”_

_Smiling. “Of course.” He motioned to someone behind him, and another Salarian came up on his right side, recognizing him immediately._

_“You remember Wiks?”_

_I nodded as I shook Wiks hand. “Of course. Good to see you again.”_

_“Same here. Hopefully this time will be less eventful.”_

_I barked out a laugh at the absurdity of the comment._

_Thousands of Reapers, hundreds of thousands of Reaper ground forces, the sky alight with the war above, and the ever present screams of the dying and wounded. Add the constant explosions in the background and the increasingly frequent fireballs tearing through the atmosphere, and having one pissed off Krogan tear through your compound seemed pretty uneventful to me._

_“Don't think it can get any more eventful.” I replied as another fireball screamed overhead. We all ducked our heads as the concussion rolled over us. We didn't hear the barking of gunfire, most likely another dead friendly._

_The sky was almost beautiful._

_Almost._

_Myriads of colors illuminating the clouds, a beautiful light-show. Then, you remember, the lights meant thousands were dying just so we could make a run at the beam._

_“More Reapers are inbound,so ...”_

_I sighed. What a fucking shit show. Kirrahe was right, this was a shit plan. I guess just calling it a plan gave it validity. “So, this plan of yours?” I asked._

_Kirrahe answered. “Wiks.”_

_Wiks just pointed up. I just looked at him._

_“The Citadel is the answer. Reapers need it for some reason. Sovereign proved Citadel crucial to their plans. They must need it for their end game.”_

_I shook my head. “They have the numbers on us. It has to be here for something else.”_

_Wiks answered. “Any thoughts on why, or what?”_

_I shrugged. “Just a guess.”_

_“And that is?”_

_I waved my arm around, then up. “Turning them into a Reaper. They tried it before, but... ”_

_They looked surprised. “They tried before? When?”_

_“The Collectors. That's what they were up to. And some type of genetic testing. I didn't really follow that one. Mordin looked into it though.”_

_“Yes. Read his abstracts. Incredible. Turned Protheans into Coll-”_

_“DOWN” I shouted, dropping to the ground as the remains of a shuttle screamed overhead plowing into whatever was left of the building beside us._

_We ran over, my visor not registering any life signs, but we checked anyway. A useless gesture. It had been hit with a Reaper beam, you don't survive those._

_Masking his face, Wiks spoke up. “I still can't get used to that smell.”_

_A shuttle full of cooked beings was difficult to take._

_And that was the pervasive smell of this Spirits forsaken city. I can't believe the humans still believed in hell._

_“Wiks. Assemble the men at the ship. We leave now.” Kirrahe barked._

_Wiks gave me a quick nod, and ran off._

_“Leaving? You're not going to … stay? Fight?” I never knew an STG agent to shy away from a fight._

_Kirrahe shook his head. “Leaving. Yes. Fighting. Yes. But not here. Up there.”_

_“What the hell are you talking about? You're not seriously thinking of trying to get to the Citadel? That's madness.” Looking up at the sky. “Do you have any idea how many fucking Reapers are up there?_

_“Thousands. And yet you landed tens of thousands of troops.”_

_“At a cost.”_

_“There's always a cost. We have seventy percent probability of arriving at the Citadel unscathed.”_

_“And then? What? You just open a door and walk in?”_

_“Actually, yes.” He turned to look at the beam. “Garrus. How many do you think will make it to that beam?”_

_Hopefully two. “Not many.”_

_“Then we have to try.”_

_“What's this suicidal plan of yours.”_

_“Not suicidal, calculated risk. Reapers are equatorially dispersed. No coverage at poles. Slow gradual climb to polar escape, then drift to Citadel.”_

_Done right, it could work. There was enough debris up there to hide them. “And then?”_

_His O-T lit up, he zoomed it in to the base of the Citadel. “Attach here.”_

_“What's there?”_

_“From shape and design, most likely exhaust or debris port for docking ring. Not enough data for exact purpose. However, it will get us inside.”_

_“And you're just going to open the hatch and walk in?”_

_“Yes.”_

_He looked sane, almost serene. How could they just walk in? I looked up, scratching my neck, pondering how they could just 'walk-in'._

_Sensing my thoughts, Kirrahe spoke up. “Everyone forgets how you defeated Sovereign.”_

_You little sneaky bastards. You magnificent sneaky bastards. “They must have changed them by now.”_

_“Why?'_

_Why indeed. They're machines. They wouldn't think anyone would just walk right in. We walked right up to the Geth twice, and they never thought it possible. Why would they change the override codes?_

_“How did you get them?”_

_He gave me an enigmatic smile. “Chaos is a wonderful opportunity.”_

_I laughed, then nodded my appreciation at what they'd done. While everyone was looking for victims, the STG were stealing the codes._

_I stood straight, and gave him a salute. At least someone in this shit-fest was thinking. He returned the salute._

_I stuck out my hand, and we shook. “As the humans say, Godspeed Major, Godspeed.”_

_“Good luck to you as well, Garrus. We will not see each other again, however was an honor to serve with you.”_

_“You as well.” I said as he started towards the landing zone. “Major.” I called out. He stopped, and turned around. “What are you calling this operation?”_

_With a small bow of his head. “In honor of our last mission, I thought we'd be Shadow team this time.” I returned his nod, and headed to find Shepard._

_I never saw nor heard from them again._


	8. Dreams in dissonance

I wander through the rubble. I think I hear it again.

But that's more hope than reality.

A flash of …

I run in that direction, turning the corner to … nothing.

Another empty street. The empty gray hulks of buildings towering over me.

Rubble strewn across the street. Paper and polycarbonate sheeting flitting in the breeze.

A haunting, keening sound as the breeze flows through the mile-high rubble.

I turn another corner, on to a boulevard.

Carcasses of skycars and multi-passenger transports litter the roadway. Human and turian mannequins slumped out of the windows. 

The breeze is stronger, blowing through the remains with a sad haunting sound.

As I approach, I see that they're actually husks and marauders, all pointing at me. I start to to turn to run, when the blinding red light washes through everything.

I blink open my eyes and see her. The husks and marauders gone, I turn towards her. 

It looks like she cants her head to the side when I call her, but doesn't move. I call again and run towards her. 

I run, but she's not getting any closer. 

The breeze is heavier now. A song of despair as it winds through the debris before whipping her hair across her face. 

I run faster, the distance never closing. 

Afraid to take my eyes off her, I stumble over something. I quickly get up, and start to move towards her. She looks up at me, and mouths “I'm sorry.” 

I stand there, the wind shrieking in despair as she slowly walks off.


	9. Thank you for your service ...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We're getting there ...

As I woke, I realized the sound was coming from me. For a moment I worried that I might disturb the neighbors, until I realized my voice was just one of millions.

If a galaxy cries out at once, can anyone hear it?

I glanced at the time, then rolled back and stared at the ceiling.

Spirits, I miss her. They say, whoever they are … they say time heals all wounds. When?

When does it even begin to diminish? 

I keep hearing her last transmission in my head. No words, just an anguished cry.

Fuck it.

I get up. Shower, and head outside.

The streets are deserted, my footsteps softly echoing through the debris canyons. Menae was setting, giving the cloud cover a soft gray glow.

_(… in the matter of **[Rank:]** Commander  **[Name: Last, First]** Shepard, Elizabeth Agena  , the Terran Alliance is permanently/ ~~temporarily~~ changing ~~his~~ /her classification from MIA to …)_

Most of the street lighting is still down, but Illumi-Strips® are mounted on the walls bordering the streets. Some were old, or under-powered, creating a constant flickering between bright white and sickly yellow. 

Just enough lighting to make out a path around the rubble.

I find myself where I always end up, outside the park. I just arrive, I rarely ever remember getting here. 

_( … the change to KIA is based on several factors; including, but not limited to: … )_

I lean my head against the fence, the feel of the cold metal soothing.

_( … an incomplete set of dog-tags found at the last known location of Commander Shepard; …)_

I look across the park, the plants a dark fractal gray superimposed over the chaotic lines of the rubble.

_( ...portions of armor found at last known location ... worn by Commander Shepard at the time of … as verified by multiple witnesses …)_

Spotting a bench, I walk over and sit down. Leaning back, I just watch the clouds move across the sky.

I hear movement in the park, I do a quick scan, but I don't see anything. I go back to cloud gazing. 

_( … confirmation by multiple DNA tests performed on the portion(s) of organic tissue found at the last known … )_

It's eerily quiet, and I wonder how many generations it will take before this neighborhood is back to pre-war levels.

I'm sure that data is on someones desk, or in a shiny presentation. Not even the Reapers can kill bureaucracy.

_( … as the designated beneficiary of **[Rank:]** Commander  **[Name: Last, First ]** Shepard, Elizabeth Agena, and pursuant to Alliance regulations, [Tap here for relevant regulation(s)], … )_

I hear something flapping in the breeze that slowly winds through. I flip around and lay down on the bench, and continue staring at the sky.

_( … you have 60 (Sixty) GS (Galactic Standard) Days to claim any, and all personal effects of the deceased. … failure to retrieve any, and all items will result in forfeiture … )_

I wonder if they're going to refurbish most of the buildings, or is it more cost-effective to tear them down, and rebuild later?

And I'm sure there's a study out there somewhere on the issue.

_( … Signed, Major John Winters, MD. Alliance Personnel - (Retrieval and Identification, Forensics Division) )_

After a few minutes my legs ache, so I get up and stretch. Shaking my head as I look at the park, I blurt out. “You deserved better than all this.”

I hear a scuffling behind me, then a soft female voice. “Yes she did.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My apologies, I thought I had posted this chapter, then realized I hadn't. Then the always reliable (their claim, not mine) cable went down. So, I took the time to rewrite it. 
> 
> It wasn't supposed to be left at the end of the last chapter.
> 
> Again, my apologies, and thanks to the six people who read it.


	10. Please allow me to introduce myself ...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The journey begins ...

I pulled my sidearm as I spun towards the voice.

I didn't see anything, there were several shadowed areas, and I guessed she was in one of them. Then I realized my visor wasn't engaged. I tapped it on, and an infrared image of a small female human appeared a few meters away. How had she gotten so close?

In my best C-Sec voice. “Do not move. Put your hands where I can see them.”

“Uhh. Which one?” She replied.

“Which one what?”

“Don't move or put my hands where you can see them? You can't do both.” More inquisitive than sarcastic. “Hmm, I guess I coouuld do both. But. That wouldn't be … what you asked.” She continued.

What the …? “Just … just put your hands where I can see them.”

“OK.” Then with both her hands open, she put them out in front of her. “Better?” She asked.

“Up. Over your head.” My C-Sec voice becoming second nature.

“What?” 

“Put your hands over your head.”

“Why didn't you say that to begin with?” Still no underlying sarcasm in her tone. She starts to raise her hands, then stops. “Wait. If you know my hands aren't over my head, then that … “

She steps forward and points at me. “That means you can see me. And, that means ...” She walks a couple more paces toward me. “You can see my hands.” She waves them palms out in front her. “See. What are you looking for anyway?”

Really? Has this person never seen a cop show? Exasperated. “A weapon.”

“Nope.” She drops her hands by her sides and pushes herself up on a piece of plasti-crete, slides back, legs dangling. She crosses her arms across her chest, and shakes her head. “Nope. No weapon, sorry.” 

Then, in a gesture I've seen more times than I know, she cants her head to the left. Scratches her head, then runs her hand back through her hair, three times. On the third time, she tucks it behind her ear. 

I stared for a moment. I remember the end of our first mission together, Shepard did that very same thing. She'd taken her helmet off, shook her head, then did that exact same gesture. Exact. Strangely, I found it very endearing, and incredibly feminine. She caught me looking, and with a smile, asked, “What?” I'd just shaken my head and said “It's .. nothing.” I wasn't going to admit that for a moment I saw her as a female, not Commander Shepard. 

The sound of movement brings me out of my reverie. I focus on the new arrival as she points at me with her right hand. “No. Wait. I lied. Well, forgot really. I have a knife.” She reaches for her ankle. “Right here. Small one. Want to see it? It's kinda cute. It has this-”

A little unnerved by her nonchalance, and the eerie similarity in the way she played with her hair, I barked, cutting her off. “Dammit. Put your hands over your head.”

She crossed her arms over her chest, and while I couldn't make out any details, I'd bet she was pouting. “No.”

I began to wonder what the odds were in encountering the only scatterbrained human on Palaven. “Place your hands over your head, NOW.”

She shook her head. “No.”

I exhaled slowly, and fired a round a half a meter off her right side. “Now. Put your hands over your head.” I yelled.

She jumped off to her left, and stayed in the crouched position, yelling. “What the fuck?! Are you out of your mind? What the fuck is wrong with you?” The last as she straightened up, and slowly put her arms up.

“Seriously. What the fuck is wrong with you?” She started towards me. “I mean fuck … you could've shot me.” She stopped after only a couple steps. Then muttered to herself. “What a fucking asshole. Fuck. I mean really, who the fuck does that shit ...”

“Uh, you know I can hear you. And I-” Started to reply, when she interrupted.

“Well good for fucking you. Can you hear this? You're an asshole.” While the imaging wasn't really there, I could tell she was glaring at me. But also scared, her vitals were way up, and there was a slight tremolo in her voice.

I reached for my flashlight, it wasn't there. I heard her continue to mutter as I looked around for it. Thinking I may have dropped it when I laid down on the bench, I backed toward it.

“Hey. Where are you going, mister just-fucking-shoot-people?” She yelled. But, her hands were still up.

“Looking for my flashlight.” Then looking at her. “And you know, just for the record. If I actually wanted to shoot you. I would have.” I went back to scanning the ground.

“Well isn't that comforting. … Fucking asshole.” Then in a lowered growly voice. “If I wanted to shoot you, I would have.” When she went back to muttering, I could tell I was still the object of her wrath.

Well, you shouldn't sneak up on a Turian at night. Just the fact you were able to sneak up is enough to get you harmed. It's kind of embarrassing.

I half listened to her grumble while searching, when she said something that gave me pause. “ … I can't fucking believe I came all this way for a fucking psycho ...”

I stopped, looked at her, and asked. “Wait. What did you just say?”

She grumbled for a couple more seconds, then asked. “Huh. Uh, were you talking to me?”

“Yes. I asked what did you say earlier?”

“When?”

I began to think her whole goal in life was to annoy the shit out of me.

Inhale.

Exhale.

“When. You. Said. I. Can't. Believe. I. Came. All. This. Way. For. A.-” 

“What about it? Don't worry about it. As soon as you let me go, I'll ...” She dropped her right arm, flexed it, put it back up. Then did the same with her left. “Hey dickhead. How long do I have to keep my arms up?”

Dickhead. That actually amused me. “Until I say so.” I replied.

Lowered mocking voice again. “Until I say so.” Shaking her head, back to grumbling. “What an ass...”

Scanning the ground, and trying to keep an eye on her, I half listened to her grumblings.

“ … what an asshole ...” 

“ … he should put HIS fucking hands up … he's the one shooting ...”

“ … dickhead ...I can't believe ...”

“ … traveled all this way … for nothing … nothing”

I stopped, and took a couple steps toward her. “What do you mean you traveled all this way for nothing?”

“Huh?”

“I said, what did you mean when you said you traveled all this way for nothing?”

“Don't worry about it. As soon as we're done with … with … playing Officer Dickhead, or whatever it is you're doing, I'm outta here.” She dropped her arms, moved over and hoisted herself back on to the chunk of plasti-crete. 

I motioned with my pistol, and began to remind her to raise her arms, but she wasn't having any of that.

“No. I'm done. I told you I don't have a weapon, well, just a knife ...” When she reached down, I gave her a warning.

“Ah-ah. Slowly” Her response was to flip me off with her left hand. She pulled the knife out of either her boot or an ankle sheath, and lobbed it towards me. It clanked and bounced on the sidewalk off to my right.

“There. Now you have all the weapons. Feel better?”

“I would still appreciate no sudden movements.”

“Same here.” She replied.

“Look. Let me find my flashlight. Make sure every thing's clear, and we'll go our separate ways. OK? Unless you want to tell me why you're here.” I added quickly.

“What do you mean, 'every thing's clear'?” She snapped. “You are not searching me. Don't even think about it.”

I reached down and picked up the knife, while keeping one eye on her. I held it up to what light there was, and she was right, it wasn't very big. About 25 centimeters, most of it the handle. It had a 10 centimeter diamond-shaped double edged blade, with grooves on the apex of each side. I wish I had my light, if they were what I thought they were, not a cute knife at all.

“You. Are. Not. Touching. Me.” She kept talking while I'd studied the knife. “Are we clear on that?” 

“Why do you have this knife?” I asked, still holding it up to the light.

“Are we clear on you not touching me?”

I began to wonder what she might be hiding, then I stopped. She has been cooperative, and she's a lone human female, it's dark, and I have been a little …. I sighed.

“Yes. We are clear. I would really like to know why you have that knife though.”

“Protection. Why?”

“Protection? From … who? Spirits, this is a … Where did you get this?”

A hint of exasperation in her tone. “From a friend. Why?”

Without responding, I moved back towards the bench, alternating between searching and watching her. I caught a glimpse of a shadowed rounded shape by one of the legs. I placed the knife on the bench, and with my left hand, reached down and grabbed the flashlight.

Once I was back upright, I checked in on my new friend. She was just sitting there, humming, her legs swinging back and forth. Her vitals were slightly elevated, but …

Content that she wasn't an overt threat at the moment, I squatted down and studied the knife. An exquisite example of design and execution. Execution being the key word however, it's an assassin's blade. And, just happens to be banned in Council space.

Either my new friend is from the Terminus systems, or her friends are. 

The blade was obsidian black, the handle matte black, with a Smarture® grip, adaptable for three or five digits. The only color on the blade was a red groove on one apex of the blade, blue on the other. Fast acting toxins, for both levo and dextro based life forms. 

 

__

#### _Introducing the Tox-Sen Mk. VII®_

 _  
Now **YOU** can own the weapon the Council deemed too dangerous for Citadel space. When you arm your organization with the Tox-Sen Seven® (Patent Pending in some regions), you're giving them with the **BEST**. And with our patented toxin delivery system, all wounds are fatal wounds. _

_Arm your organization with the Tox-Sen Seven® (Patent Pending in some regions) , and you're guaranteed to come out a **WINNER**._

 

I'd seen the ads several times on Omega. 

Omega. I never want to see that place again.

Right. Another set of bad memories.

Spirits, I hope to never have to go there again. Just the thought of … 

Shit. Stay focused, Vakarian.

OK, so allegedly the toxins are inert until exposed to blood, then any wound becomes a fatal wound. Just becomes a matter of time.

There are rumors that some military's are capable of counteracting the toxins, but I've never seen or heard of it.

I think it's time to have a serious chat with my new friend.

Keeping my gun trained on her, I tried a new tact. “I think maybe it's time we introduced ourselves.” She looked up at that. “I'm Gar-”

“I know who you are.” She said as she jumped down from the debris. “And I am Kayla Wadriani.” She even gave a short bow, stretching her arms with a flourish and all. 

“Nice to meet you, Kayla. You still seem to have me at a disadvantage though. You-”

“Not much of one either.”

“Not much of-”

And it's the only one that I can see.” She hadn't moved since she'd jumped off the plasti-crete. Well, not quite true, she put her hands on her hips, but no forward movement. 

I started to reply, when she continued. “Unless there's some great advantage I have over you that I can't see.” Huh? Again, I started a reply. “What do-...”

It seems, … it seems she wasn't finished. 

She was just getting started. “Because the way I see it, you … YOU, have all the advantages. Hell, I even GAVE you my knife. My only weapon. You have a gun. Which you seem to like to shoot. So now … now I -”

My turn to interrupt. “Yes, let's talk about your knife, shall we? And keep your hands where I can see them, please.”

“OK. You have it, it's in your possession, what's the problem now? You want the sheath? Ohhh, maybe I'm a ninja assassin. IS that it?” With a heavy dose of sarcasm in her voice she shook her head. Back to her mockingly lowered voice. “Ohh, look at me, I'm a ninja.” She dropped into a crouch, then spun around, ending with a kick straight out.

It was, an incredibly amusing display.

“Cute. But. The fact remains, it is a seriously dangerous weapon.”

She had moved out of her crouch and folded her arms across her chest. “Yeah, like your gun isn't? What's the point of having a weapon if it isn't dangerous? She made a snorting sound. “I mean, shit … if it isn't dangerous, may as well hold a flower.” 

She jumped back to her crouch, shaking her right arm in front of her. “Or a dead fish.”

She stood back up, both arms in front, then began to pantomime writing. In her lowered voice. “And what happened here, sir?”

Then she turned to her right, put her hands on her head, and in a high pitched voice. “It was horrible. I was sooo scared. He came at me with a fish. A dead one. I … I … I didn't know what to do. So I shot him.”

Spinning to her left, and with the lowered voice. “Well, that seems a little extreme. I mean you could have-”

A quick spin to the right, hands back on head, shrieking. “But he also had a flower in his breast pocket.”

Back to her left, pantomimes snapping a notebook closed. “Oh, well very good then. Nothing else you could have done. Carry on.” She begins to wave her right arm. “All right folks. Nothing to see here. Keep moving.”

What an odd person. 

“You are … an... interesting person. I'll say that. Now, if you pl-”

“Then say it.”

“What?”

“Say that I'm an interesting person.”

What? “I just did. Why would I-”

“I know. I'm just fucking with you. So you were saying?”

Spirits save me from this person. She is either a scatterbrained idiot, a genius, or the cleverest assassin I've ever met. I'm not sure if I could choose which one right now.

Exhale.

“How about if you just step into the light. That way I don't have to blind you with the flashlight.” I'm sure I sounded reasonable.

“About time.” And she started forward. All was fine until she hit the light.

Looking back, I may have overreacted. Maybe.

She couldn't have looked more insolent if she'd been chewing gum and swaying her hips. That lasted until her face resolved under the light. For a second I was sure I'd seen her before, then … 

If the events on the Citadel, and the fight to regain the Normandy had never happened, I'm sure my greeting would have been much more pleasant. Unfortunately, they were still fresh in my mind, so my greeting was … less than pleasant. 

“Get your fucking hands up NOW.” I flicked the flashlight on, aiming at her face. She grimaced and shielded her eyes with her hands. “Spirits fucking dammit. Get your hands up.”

“What the fuck. Turn that fucking light off.” She yelled.

“I swear to all. If you do not put your hands over your head right now. I WILL shoot you.”

“Jesus fucking Christ. What is your problem?! And get that god-damned light out of my eyes.” We were both yelling now.

I scanned her with the light, getting it out of her eyes, She still hadn't put her hands up. So I fired a round in the air.

She screamed, and ducked her head.

“Put your fucking hands up. I'm not fucking around here.”

“FUCK YOU” She did put her hands up though. 

Some time ago, while killing time, Jeff showed me a picture of Shepard taken a couple months before she enlisted. If Kayla had auburn hair instead of blond, she would look exactly like the photo.

“Shit. How many of you did they make?”

And when the hell did they … decant? … hatch? … birth? … her? She looked young, much younger than the first clone. And not an exact duplicate either. A different tactic? Or forced by events of the war? More importantly, why another?

Divesting themselves of the investment, maybe? Revenge plot?

“Why another?” I mused out loud.

She sniffed, and looked up. Her eyes were red, was she crying? “Another? I have a sister?” Almost hopeful. She wiped her eyes with the backs of her hands.

I should've been more insistent about her getting her hands back up, but she looked pretty vulnerable right now, so I let it go. I sighed, and hoped it wouldn't come back to bite me in the ass.

“Had. If that's what you call yourselves. Or would it be daughter … I guess sister. Hell, I don't know.” I was thinking out loud as opposed to answering her question. Though I guess the clones would be sisters. 

They would be daughters to the original, at least that's how I understood the nomenclature to be. But aren't clones taken from the preceding one? Or do they all come from the original, and … I guess grown when needed.

“Hey. You'd think you'd know this after spending all that time with humans, but then they never mentioned what an asshole you are, so maybe nobody ever told you. But, yes, we call female siblings sisters, and male siblings brothers.” She may look vulnerable, but there was a lot of vehemence in her voice.

“What do you call them? Or do you guys just fire guns?” Back to her mocking voice. “Bam-bam-bam-bam. Oh, sorry Mom, I was calling Dad, not you. I guess I got excited and fired one too many rounds. Heh-heh-heh.” She glared at me for a second then shook her head. 

I paused my musing, and really looked at her. I don't know what to think. She was definitely young, and the events of the last couple minutes, and maybe my actions, seem to have strung her out.

“It's not exactly the same, but brother and sister are close enough to what we say.”

Quietly. “Do you know where she is?”

I sighed. “We … we killed her.”

She paled, and slumped her head. 

“She almost succeeded in killing us, we didn't have a choice. Shepard tried to save her, but … it didn't work out. I guess they didn't tell you that, huh.”

Eyes narrowed. “Who would tell me what?”

“Never mind. What I have a problem with, is why you don't look exactly like her? Did they … hatch you early, is that why y-” 

She moved so fast, and so light, that at first I thought it was a biotic charge. 

“I have had enough of you. I could almost, almost, handle you being a total dick, but a racist piece of shit also? Fuck man, what is wrong with you? Shit ...” She started poking me in the chest, I'm not sure why, since I was wearing armor.

She shook her head. “I read all about you before ...I … they never once said anything about you being this big of an asshole. Shit, they made you out to be the nicest guy. Did they actually meet you?” She paused, never wavering from her glare. I took the pause to try and rebut … well pretty much everything she just said. 

“Now hold on -” She powered right through me.

“You don't get to speak. You have done nothing but treat me like shit. So, now I-” I cut her off. I was going to get my side in.

“Dammit. You-” If I hadn't experienced what happened next, I wouldn't have believed it. I'm still not sure. With her right hand she grabbed the cowl of my armor, and pulls herself up, then, I found this both amazing and amusing, plants her left hand across my mouth.

“No talking.” Her face was just a few centimeters from mine, her eyes had the same burning intensity Shepard would get when focused on something. “You don't get to talk.”

I just stared at her. Then nodded. It must have been shock, because I just nodded. 

She gave me a small nod back, then dropped off me. I just looked at her.

Stunned into silence.

She held a finger. “First, we do NOT hatch. WE give birth. We are not birds, which … which I know you know... so why would you say something so mean?”

“Are you always this ...” Stopping, she pushed the hair out of her face, then mumbled. “I made a serious mistake.” 

She turned around, and started to walk off, then stopped. “Where's my knife?” She asked.

“It's on the bench. But, I can't let you have it. I'm sorry.”

She made a snorting sound, then laughed. “Figures. Fuck it.” She started walking off, then stopped again. “I can't believe I...' She turned around, and in a quiet voice. “What did she see in you?”

She turned and headed down the walk.

“Hey. Wait. Where are you going?” I called out.

Her left arm shot straight up with middle finger extended. “What do you care?”

She was the strangest human I have ever met.

I grabbed the knife, put it in the utility pouch in my armor, then walked after her.

“Hey. Look. I'm sorry. I thought clones were hatched. I swear. I didn't know.” I called out.

She stopped and turned around. A mildly perplexed look on her face. “What the fuck do clones have to do with anything?” Then turned back and started off again.

“Well, I-” Started out to say, but as is her forte', she cut me off.

“Wait” She stopped, turned around, and marched, literally marched back towards me. “You think I'm a clone?”

“Uh. Well, yeah. Not like it hasn't happened before.” Looking down on her as she stopped right in front of me. 

She looked up at me, then tilted her head to the side. Please don't do the hair thing. Sigh, she did the hair thing. I closed my eyes.

“That's what you were talking about, she had a clone?”

I nodded. “Cerberus made a clone, or I guess clones, when they rebuilt her. Just in case, they ...” I debated, then decided to be blunt. “Just in case they needed parts.” She winced at that, and I nodded my agreement. “Except one … got away.”

“What happened?”

“Well, it seemed to think that the only way for it to live was to kill Shepard. Then it would take her place. It almost succeeded too.”

“Really? Huh. I never heard about it, or read about it. And I've read-”

“We covered it up.” She gave me a questioning look. “With the war on, we didn't want anyone to doubt Shepard, so we had it classified. Make sense?”

She nodded. 

“I thought that was the last but...”

“You do think I'm a clone, don't you?”

“Yes. Seems the likeliest. Except for a couple things I don't understand. But yeah, I do. Sorry.”

Pushing her hair back out of her face, and cocking a hip. “As far as I know, I'm not a clone. Sorry.” She gave an impish smile.

“Look, I'm not trying to be rude.” She gave a snorting sound at that. “Yeah, OK, that's fair. But, think about it. Would you even know?”

Nodding. “Yeah. OK. I get what you're saying.” She reached into her pocket, felt around, then pulled her hand out. Then she held it up to me, she was holding a data chip. Then added. “So I do know.”

“OK. Sorry. You just look so much like her …. I thought...I'm sorry. I didn't mean to offend.”

“Well, she was my mom if that helps clear it up.”

No. Not really. But thank you anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let the journey begin.
> 
> Thank you again for reading, hopefully, it's not a waste of time.  
> It's turning out a little longer than I thought it would be.
> 
> Please, R&R if you can. And thanks again for taking the time to read it.


	11. Well, that went well...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Underlying hostilities

“Garrus. This is … this is unexpected. What's up?”

“Yes, yes it is. I was … I was wondering if you had, or could access Shepard's old medical records.” Just static on the line. I continued. “More specifically, her records from when they pulled her off Mindoir. Would they even still have those?”

More static, I'd begun to think I'd lost the connection when he finally responded. “Garrus. What's this about?”

“Can you get them or not?”

“To be honest, I don't know.” 

“What would it take for you to know?”

I could hear him sigh over the static. “Garrus. Just let her rest.”

I took a deep breath. “The Alliance's answer for everything. Can you do it or not?”

“What do you need it for?”

“If it helps, I don't need all of it. More specifically, I need Chakwas's reports and notes.”

“Chakwas? Dr. Karin Chakwas?”

“That be the one. I'd ask her directly, but … “ Petty, I know.

“You make a crack like that, and you honestly think I'm going to help?”

“Yes I do.”

“What makes you so sure.”

“You're alive.”

Static

“For the record. You're an asshole. You know that, Garrus.”

“Second time I've heard that this week.”

“Only twice?”

“Yeah. Just twice. But then, I'm not Alliance. So, twice would be a low number for you guys.”

The static cleared long enough for me hear him take a deep breath before speaking. “You know... off the record. It's cheap remarks like that, that make the Alliance wonder if the Hierarchy is truly negotiating fairly. With the attitude, and then they make you the liaison?”

I laughed. “I'm there because I do know the Alliance.”

With a little heat in his voice. “What does that mean?”

“Did you know Shepard was going for her Master's before she went into the N7 program?”

“No. I didn't. Garrus, what does this have to do with anything?”

“It was in military history. She was big into history.”

“And what does this have to do with anything?”

“I've always been amazed that you always say how much you love her. But, you never know anything about her, nor want to hear it. Why is that, Kaiden?”

“Look. Just because I CAN face the fact she's gone, doesn't change how I feel.”

“That's not what I asked or said, but … Anyway. She told me that the main countries that ended up becoming the Alliance had had incredibly lethal military's.”

“They still do actually. They make up the bulk of the Alliance.”

“What I found interesting, was that they all had a simple tenet: Never leave anyone behind. Shepard believed that was what made them the best. Not the amount of hardware, it was that embedded loyalty. That loyalty that no matter what, you'd get home.”

“The Alliance still has that.”

“Do you, Kaiden? Do you?”

“Dammit, Garrus. I'm sorry you think we abandoned Shepard on the Citadel, but we had orders.”

“See that's my point. You don't even see the irony of that statement. So, if the Alliance is willing to abandon a soldier, which is the bulwark of the Alliance, what else will it abandon, Kaiden?”

There were a few moments of silence and static, then. “I'll see what I can find.”

“Thank you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A quick chapter while I decide whether or not to skip some things to keep the story short. (Shortish?).
> 
> Again, thank you for your time. I hope you enjoy.  
> Thank you to all that gave kudos and comments, very kind of you.


End file.
